


Tenacity

by TrashKing (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Drabble, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pack Dynamics, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Vaginal Sex, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/TrashKing
Summary: Omegas usually can't head a pack, centralising several partners around them, but Light's always been atypical. Still, it's a balancing act.
Relationships: Amane Misa/Yagami Light, L/Yagami Light, Mikami Teru/Yagami Light
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	Tenacity

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo.... this happened? I'd say I'm sorry but I'm definitely not.

Light has a certain tenacity atypical of an omega.

Omegas, traditionally, can’t centralize whole packs but Light? Light is special. At least he thinks so. And there’s a rhythm to his world that ebbs and flows with a reliable certainty.

In the morning there is Misa, his omega, and her beta Rem. Light doesn’t sleep with company but he likes spending nights at Misa’s apartment. Rem makes an agreeable breakfast even if she doesn’t particularly like Light herself. She doesn’t need to. She’s not a mating partner. She recognizes him as head of household but with a gentle, very butch, resentment. She likes his attempts to fight the alpha patriarchy, but his attitude is still shit, you know?

Misa showers with Light, he scents her liberally, all soft perky tits and thick golden hair and then she’s off to… whatever it is J-Pop idols do these days. Light doesn’t keep track. Or at least he pretends not to. He does have Misa’s entire schedule synced to his smartphone but he feigns indifference to keep her guessing. She likes the chase of running, eager, after his attention. Besides, Rem is there as a steady rock to give her the solid emotional reassurance if she ever needs it. Light gets to do the fun fucking stuff.

Then it’s work.

Yotsuba is very profitable under Light and his various… schemes? Machinations? What’s a way of saying this that doesn’t sound illegal? Projects? Yes, that. _Projects_. That’s the word.

Light doesn’t run an international underground, a network of spies and racketeers, no, of course not. He and his illustrious eight just… do international business stuff. It’s all messy and mathematical. It wouldn’t interest you. It’s so dull.

Mikami is trained as a prosecutor but his keen eye for what will get them arrested makes him an invaluable personal assistant. He’s very good a quietly amending documents and shredding evidence. He doesn’t need to be directed to do every little thing. He has keen instincts.

Mikami is another omega, another branch of Light’s pack. He operates out of Yotsuba. Attends Light on lunches and business trips and often looks far too serious until Light whispers;

“ _Teru_ …”

And then he melts into a glistening kind of adoration that’s all in the eyes.

He’s more butter than Misa honestly but he can take harder hits when Light is feeling particularly rowdy. Because, let it be understood, Light is an aggressive sexual deviant when he’s acting in the capacity of pack leader. 

It’s easy.

Ryuk? Not so easy.

Well, comparatively. Ryuk is a beta. Which is just as well because Light can hardly fathom Ryuk as a sexual entity. He’s an eldritch abomination in human skin. He’s Light’s IT guy, on the books, but in reality? Ryuk is probably Light’s oldest friend and his go-between mounting the gap of fancy business world and seedy criminal hellscape. When Light needs to give his _‘enforcers_ ’ or _‘independent contractors_ ’ instructions he sends them through Ryuk. Ryuk is impassable. A wall of sass and disgusting facial expressions. Ryuk preserves Light’s— _Kira’s_ anonymity with a kind of nonchalance that only comes with skill.

Light doesn’t often see Ryuk in person these days but they’re joined at the virtual hip.

Twenty-four-seven Ryuk and Light communicate through their private text channels. It should be mostly business speak but it’s not. It’s insults, memes, lewd jokes, perplexing photos, gossip…

Ryuk is the worst of Light and that works for them.

Today however we encroach into the deepest reaches of Light’s pack. The central pillar, the foundational structure, is old and fearsome stuff but it’s rarely paraded out for the eyes of the public. Light saves the core of his pack for special occasions, like fine china, because while all his omegas and betas have their assorted needs and itches to scratch…

Well, Light has needs too.

This morning Light wakes up irritable. He can feel it itching at him. For once Misa is awake ahead of him. She promises as he slips into the shower—

“I didn’t want to wake you! You should sleep in for once Baby— _Aaah_ —”

Or she tries to explain anyway before Light pins her against the tiled wall and thrusts himself into her waiting cunt. She’s still half slick form last night and rutting her into the wall, scrambling and hiccupping, he buries his face in her wet hair and tries to focus.

He chews the mating mark on the back of her scruff, mostly mindless, and she cums in a quivering, giggling, mess around him but he does not. Not this time.

Damn.

That usually means—

No, it’s too early in the month.

Light pulls her up, still half hard, and holds her on her feet as he scrubs her off with an almost parental diligence. She croons, giggling still, all flush with the thrill of being babied. He wraps her in a fluffy towel a moment later, sits her on the bathroom counter, and kisses her button nose before working to shave himself.

She floats away, skittering with mischief, and perfectly content. Light likes her easy-going appetites but they’re not killing the ache today.

Rem is stern and basically non-verbal at breakfast, like always, but Light finds her more grating that usual. He has no patience for it. Damn sullen bitch…

Yeah, he’s in a mood, isn’t he?

Maybe—

He leaves breakfast half eaten. His appetite isn’t great today anyway. His stomach is all in knots as he heads downstairs to the parking garage to make the commute to Yotsuba. The car is too cold, then it’s too hot, then it’s stuffy…

He pops the button on his collar, pulls off his tie, and struts into work with his clavicle exposed.

Mikami flushes with a subdued but ever-present interest.

Ryuk texts Light in the elevator.

Ryuk has an ugly rash on his foot. He’s wondering if it’s infected but Light knows he won’t go to a doctor whatever he says on the matter. Ryuk just likes the flourish of being disgusting so Light texts back;

[You’re going to die of rabies, ass weasel.]

Which seems apt and Ryuk, as always, bounces off the energy:

[LOL play “Toxic” by Britney at my funeral <3]

Light scoffs and something about the way he tosses his hair has Mikami’s sharp eyes darting over his jaw. Maybe Mikami can smell it? Light’s growing intensity at times like this always excites the other. He likes danger in an odd way. Likes being conquered.

Light meets his gaze.

Mikami jerks his eyes away quickly, flushes.

Light drags his teeth across his bottom lip.

Yeah, he can go again.

“Si-sir?” Mikami fumbles, almost tripping as Light presses the emergency stop on the elevator and the compartment lurches to a stop.

“Teru,” Light growls.

Mikami’s putty even before Light slams him against the back wall and yanks his pants down around his ankles. He’s already wet too. Light finds that out quickly when he grinds his cock against the other omega and, arching back into him, Mikami takes him dry.

“God, you are an eager fucking slut.” Light growls, pinning his wrists by his sides.

Mikami warbles out nonsense, probably seeing stars as Light bottoms out inside him and pounds him into the steel backing.

The maintenance crew try to contact them halfway through.

Light yanks Mikami into a lewder position, hunched in half, face smooshed against the wall and pressing the button barks;

“I’m busy here.”

The staff stutter and apologize before ending the connection.

Can they hear Mikami moaning in the background? Probably.

Does Light care? No.

“God, Light, fuck, God—” Mikami seems to get ‘Light’ and ‘God’ confused a lot.

That tends to go to Light’s head, he won’t lie.

Mikami cums screaming but Light doesn’t.

He pins Mikami there, panting himself, but feels a knot of frustration churning in his gut.

 _Fuck_.

He’s definitely going into heat.

Light sighs, unsheathing from Mikami. They clean up in a few curt moments, Mikami peppering his face with kisses, and Light grabs his hair, kisses him once hard, and says;

“You’re going to need to cancel my appointments for today.”

“Of course Sir,” Mikami swoons, still jelly-legged.

Light heads back down the elevator, back to his car, and whips out his phone again.

Ryuk has text him a lewd meme.

Mikami assures him all his appointments have been rescheduled.

Misa has sent him a photo of her in her latest modelling ensemble with a thumbs up.

Light scrolls past them in his contacts.

Pressing his forehead against the steering wheel he lets the line ring out against his ear.

“You’re early this month,” a grunt flutters across the connection, deep and lazy but intensely reassuring. Satisfying.

“I need you now.” Light hisses. “You better be in the country.”

“You’re in luck, I just got back to Tokyo HQ last night.” L replies.

“I must’ve sensed you,” Light cackles dryly.

“Maybe you did.” He teases. “I’ll clear my afternoon if you’re on your way?”

“I’ll be there in twelve minutes.”

“Twenty judging by traffic.”

“I can afford a traffic violation.” Light hangs up before the lecture can start.

Light is atypical omega.

But he’s still an omega.

And there is only one alpha in the northern hemisphere he would consent to fuck, _ever_.

Watari doesn’t greet Light when he buzzes into the Tokyo HQ. Honestly unless L is working a very large case the very large building is almost always empty. Maybe it’s to ensure privacy? Maybe it’s to be closer to Light’s Yotsuba offices? Light’s not sure but he doesn’t rightly care at the moment.

Light dumps his jacket off his shoulders in the elevator and is unbuttoning his shirt when he traipses out into L’s suite.

L doesn’t greet him so much as catch him.

Light practically collapses on impact, throwing both arms around L’s neck and dragging him down into an _everything_ kind of kiss. Tongue, teeth, spit…

Light grasps his hair, tastes him, maps his scent…

L’s smell is always vaguely tinged by his most recent case location. Light is familiar with some of the reoccurring scents by now. He thinks—Paris? No, London. Definitely London. He can smell the rain and snow, taste Roger’s scones and raspberry jam on the back of L’s tongue.

L hefts him up and Light wraps both legs around his hips like a limpet.

Light will not be easily detached but L is never concerned. L is used to his fussing and forever nonchalant about it all. L’s intensity creeps into his fingertips sometimes but there’s an inherent, smug, laziness to his every motion. It’s the stink of total confidence.

An alpha among alphas, this asshole, and he knows it.

That’s the dangerous part.

Light sprawls back on the bed. L never changes his sheets enough but that’s a thrill in its own right sometimes. The bed smells of them. Like home, like sanctity…

Light has needs.

Sometimes he needs to get mounted and fucked senseless.

That said L is not dominant in the same tone as Light. Light manages his omegas with a firm hand and curt, ruthless, sass. It’s almost cruel sometimes. Aloof, hard to get…

L is old world in his own way. It’s almost… romantic? It’s sickening honestly. L atop him, L inside him, his hands clutching L close by those pronounced shoulder blades, their foreheads pressed together half stuck with sweat…

It’s a steady pace, hypnotic. In, out, in out. Heat, kissing, all consuming and, for a couple of hours, nothing else exists. Light hasn’t managed to take his watch off but his head never clears long enough to check the time. He is swept away under L, tucked up, totally brainless on heat and pheromones and their riled-up fumes.

Light breathes fire but L? L is all water and ice. He soothes, he steadies, he balances. He’s the immovable object to Light’s unstoppable force and he quenches that wicked little thirst in the back of Light’s mind.

Light is pack leader of his own little universe, but L is his alpha and that’s okay.

Well… so long as no one ever knows.

He’s sure Misa, Mikami, Ryuk and Rem know the broad strokes but they’ve never met L personally and they don’t need to. L is the alpha of their pack and they’ll never meet him. Well—Maybe once but that’s a long way off. Light needs to be more serious with his current cluster before he introduces them to L. That’s a long-term thing.

Point is? L’s not going anywhere. That’s for damn certain.

Light languishes, zoned out and breathless.

He breathes heavy, eyelids fluttering, his cheek sweaty on L’s chest.

That was just what the doctor ordered.

L is typing away on his phone, always working, always thinking.

It’s one of the lovely things about him, about them both.

They only ever really stop for a split second.

Light takes a deep breath and, slowly, starts to come back to the surface of sanity.

L’s nails trace up and down his side absently, not rushing in any way.

“While you’re here,” L rues, “I would like your opinion on some of my active cases.”

“So long as you feed me,” Light murmurs, curled up against him.

“We always have food.”

“Real food. Not desserts.”

“Dessert is the best—”

“ _Real food._ ” Light repeats.

“Indian or Italian?”

“Turkish.” Light replies stubbornly.

L sighs, exasperated.


End file.
